


Impossible Conversations

by nevertothethird



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Founder, Blair Waldorf POV, F/M, Minor Chuck Bass/Blair Waldorf, Moving On, Post-Season/Series 05, Romantic Friendship, There's a Dan Humphrey sized hole in Blair's heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevertothethird/pseuds/nevertothethird
Summary: 5x24 AU: Dan goes to Rome. Blair doesn't go to Monte Carlo. Neither one is entirely sure what they want or how to go about getting it once they figure it out.He smiles at her, and she is going to marry this Brooklyn idiot one day. She knows it.
Relationships: Dan Humphrey/Blair Waldorf
Comments: 33
Kudos: 243





	Impossible Conversations

Blair is in Paris for two days when she (and the rest of the Upper East Side) receives a blast from Gossip Girl: Chuck has been spotted in Monte Carlo. She can’t breathe for the strength of the impulse to go to him. She could immediately leave the apartment her mother rented. She _should._ If she leaves now, she could be with Chuck in a matter of hours. Then she’ll prove to him that — 

Prove to him that she — that she —

And this is where she gets stuck. 

What is there left to prove to him? The refrain of his accusation plays in an endless loop — _you bet against me every time_ — Has she? Does she? What more could she say, or do, or sacrifice for him? 

It isn’t a rhetorical line of questions. Blair truly wishes she had the answer. If Chuck’s interpretation is that her life is a bet against him, what would it take for him to believe she is for him? 

Her mom comes into the sitting room, interrupting her continual stretch of staring despondently at her phone. Blair braces for the censure — a reminder that frowning invites wrinkles, and that a Waldorf woman keeps their emotions under control. Instead her mother sits beside her, taking Blair’s hand and holding it gently. Rare tenderness peeking through. 

“This isn’t what you want, is it darling?” 

For a moment Blair can’t speak. Usually her fear response is fight — don’t stop moving, don’t let them see how shaken you are — but right now she’s frozen. She’s not certain what the ‘this’ is to which her mom refers, but Blair finds herself shaking her head. And with that comes the alarming notion that she is entirely disconnected from who she is and what she wants. It’s been easy to ignore that when everyone hands her a map that dictates each of her steps then sets about convincing her it’s what she’s always wanted. 

It’s not until two weeks later, when they’re back in New York, that her mother asks the question: “So what will you do instead?” 

“Perhaps I’ll graduate.” There’s not much more Blair has to say on the subject matter. 

* * *

Chuck hasn’t called her once since that night on the roof and it’s altogether unsurprising though still disappointing. It causes guilt to well up within her — she can’t help but feel the distance between them is solely her fault.

Her days in New York are unremarkable — with Serena who-knows-where and Chuck silently plotting and Dan —

Well, she tries not to think about Dan. And how their relationship is clearly over, but did either one of them officially end it? And the Gossip Girl blast that showed him, inexplicably, in a car with _Georgina_. What is he doing with Georgina?

For the first time in years, Blair spends the majority of her time alone. It’s on one such day that she sees Chuck again. Her morning was spent at Acquavella taking in the newest installation and then sampling macarons at Ladureé. In a former life she might have described such a day as idyllic, sprinkling in a bout of shopping for color, but in this moment she feels like she’s playing a role. Has she simply defaulted to the Blair the world expects?

When she sees Chuck he has one foot in a town car and one foot out. Blair doesn’t know if he’s coming or going and she’s not certain which is preferable. There’s a moment where they both freeze as they catch sight of one another, Chuck with his hand on the doorframe, Blair clutching a box of macarons to her chest. Then it’s as if they both exhale. Like they’ve been waiting for this to happen and now the only way to move is towards one another. 

Chuck closes the door of the town car and it idles, waiting for him. He buttons his jacket as he steps towards her. “You look well.” 

“You do, too.” She stops herself from reaching out to smooth the non-existent wrinkle of his suit collar. “I always liked this suit.”

“When did you get back?” 

“Last week. Did you get what you needed in Monte Carlo?” 

He smiles a little at the question, no doubt pleased she’s kept apprised of his whereabouts. “Not quite, but progress is being made. Albeit slowly.” 

They both sway towards another ever so slightly, and Blair’s heart lifts. Maybe those weeks apart did them good, and now —

“Blair, look, —”

“I love you, Chuck.” 

“Blair.” And it’s the sigh that accompanies her name that warns her she’s not going to get what she wants from him. But she’s determined to be brave. To be the kind of woman who says what she wants without equivocation. Not solely when someone pulls the confession from her or corners her. This is the moment she chooses.

“I love you,” she repeats. “And I choose you. I want you.” She takes a deep breath. This is the big one. “I want you forever, Chuck.” 

And there’s that sigh again. “Blair.” He steps even closer and cups her cheek, tenderly rubbing her cheekbone with his thumb. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Oh,” she breathes out on a laugh, and turns her head into his hand, placing a kiss there. “I thought you were going to say no.” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Of course not. When I’m with you, you’re all I think about. You are all I want.” 

He’s saying beautiful words, but there’s nothing celebratory in his tone. _Why doesn’t he sound happy?_ “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“Of course not. It’s a very, very good thing. But we both have things we need to do. I’ve been doing some thinking —”

She allows herself to step closer, gives into the impulse and runs a finger along his lapel, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “A dangerous prospect.” 

He smiles back, nodding in concession. “You’re running your mother’s company and I need to find my way back into Bass Industries.”

She ignores the mention of Waldorf Designs. There will be time to tell him of her changing plans. “So?”

“So, I have a proposal.” 

“I like the sound of a proposal.” 

“Well, more of a pact.” 

“Not as romantic, but I’m listening.”

“We make a pact to be together.”

“Why do we —?”

“Just not now.” 

“Oh.”

She looks up at him, and Chuck is wearing her favorite look. His eyes are focused, certain, and he looks utterly dazzled by her proximity. There are times when she thinks that seeing that look is what’s kept her moving towards him all these years.

She takes a small step back but maintains some contact as she smooths out a wrinkle on his shoulder. “Then when?” 

“When we accomplish our goals. Become the people we aspire to be.” 

“Why that can’t be done together?” 

“Blair —” he says, like she’s being unreasonable.

Blair bristles. “We’ve wasted so much time. So much time not being with one another.” 

“This wouldn’t be a waste. We’d be committed to one another, forever, but —”

“Isn’t that the point of having a partner, Chuck? To live life together?” 

“You’re misunderstanding me.” 

She pauses at that. Is she? Is she misunderstanding him? “So what happens five years from now? Are we going to put our relationship on pause every time one of us is up for a promotion?” 

“Don’t be daft.” 

“And don’t talk to me like I’m a child.” 

Chuck clenches his jaw and she braces for his response. His phone rings, the vibration seemingly loud even on the streets of New York. 

“You should answer that.” When he grabs her arm as she passes, she’s ready for it. Jerks it from his grasp. 

“I’m not going to be here when you decide you want me again,” he says. 

“Wanting you is not the problem.” She takes a deep breath. “Do you want to be with me right now? Yes or no?” He doesn’t answer and she schools her expression into one of flat disinterest. “Chuck, you might be tired of betting on me but I’m tired of waiting for you.” 

Blair doesn’t remember how she gets home; only that once in her room she strips down to her slip and crawls into bed. She feels the pressure of tears build behind her eyes, but she wills herself to fall asleep before they fall. She vaguely registers Dorota’s presence as she occasionally brings food, or bullies her into taking a hot bath. There isn’t any commentary from Dorota on Blair’s actions, mostly she just allows her to sleep. And while that quiet acceptance is comforting, it’s also slightly worrying. 

At one point, Chuck calls and she answers. Listens to him explain, _again_ , why waiting is what’s best for the both of him. Pleads with her to see the truth of that. 

“I want you now,” she responds. “I’ve moved everything in my life to be with you now.” He doesn’t respond and she drops the phone to her duvet. Is this the rest of her life? Are these concentric circles of love their fate? 

Blair wakes up one morning, her silk eye mask askew, and finds herself nose to nose with Serena. Serena smooths the hair back from Blair’s temple and smiles. 

“What are you doing here?” Blair whispers, wincing at the sound of her voice. She’d kill for a hot water with lemon.

“I read about your fight with Chuck on Gossip Girl. I thought you could use a friend.”

And damn Serena for being right. Damn her even more for being the catalyst that finally makes her cry. 

The two of them leave for Playa del Carmen the next day with plans to spend the majority of the summer on the beach. There are long days of walking and drinking margaritas, mostly in comfortable quiet. Occasionally one will ask if they want to talk about anything and the other inevitably says no. But there are a few nights where they stay huddled together around the fireplace on their balcony late enough to glimpse sunrise the next morning. On these nights they voice their fears, and feelings, and hopes. 

“I slept with Dan,” Serena eventually confesses. 

There’s a sting of betrayal, but Blair has lost track of who’s betrayed who over the years. Does she even have the right to be hurt? She reaches for Serena’s hand. 

* * *

They return from Mexico in time for Blair to catch the final week of the Met Gala costume exhibit. During their time away, she and Serena did eventually discuss what each of them were avoiding in New York. While there’s something comforting about entropy, it’s also incredibly limiting. Blair has to find a way to move forward as the woman she is today. 

Which is why when she arrives to The Met and sees Dan standing in the gallery, taking in the very exhibit she came to see, she approaches him. There’s something both fitting and depressing about having this conversation in this place. Something almost cinematic about apologies given and received in front of vintage Prada and a museum display titled _Ugly Chic._

The quick tuck of her hair behind the ear is the only tell she’ll give about how nervous the prospect of this interaction makes her. She steps into his peripheral vision so as not to scare him and taps him on the shoulder. 

“You’re back,” she says. 

His surprise (or perhaps hesitation?) at seeing her is fleeting. “My program ended last week.” He turns back to the display case and the shift he makes away from her is almost imperceptible. She takes a small step towards him and gestures to the display. 

“From what I’ve observed, the theme of this year’s ball was lost on most. Such strange interpretations. Or, lack thereof.” 

“I just got here. I can’t really say either way,” he replies. 

“I’d be happy to explain the motivation behind the exhibit.” 

“Thank you, but I think I can manage on my own.” 

“I’m sure you can.” She grips the handle of her handbag tightly in an attempt to steady herself. “Did you write much this summer, or —” 

“Blair can we not do this?” 

She frowns. “Do what?” 

“I’m not really interested in catching up.” 

“Okay.” Now it’s her turn to take a step away. “Noted.”

“I mean you made your choice —” 

She nods. “And so did you.” Maybe he thinks she’s referring to leaving for Italy with Georgina. Maybe he thinks she’s referring to what happened with Serena. Regardless of the ambiguity, he nods.

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. Smiles at her, it seems almost despite himself. “It was —” he abruptly stops and then shakes his head as he walks away.

She watches his retreat from the museum, his gaze turned down to his shoes. It gnaws at her the need to know what he was going to say. 

It takes her a few weeks to truly notice but Dan vanishes. Not literally, of course, but rather he vanishes from her life. She expected it, to be honest. Less expected is that he’s seemingly disappeared from all their lives. 

Blair asks Nate to lunch between classes one Wednesday afternoon, and he mentions that Dan was going to publish a series of articles in _The Spectator_ but now isn’t returning his calls. 

If history is prescriptive, usually it’s the rest of them flouncing off and declaring they’re no longer friends with Brooklyn. It’s strange to have Dan be the one who pulls away. Was it really only a couple years ago that no one cared to have him around in the first place?

She doesn’t bring it up again until she’s out having drinks with Serena and Nate. They’re celebrating the upcoming end of her semester, another month of _The Spectator_ _not_ closing, and Serena’s new job when Blair finally asks outright. 

“Has anyone seen Dan lately?” 

“Chuck ran into him while taking Monkey for a walk. Asked him to grab lunch and Dan begged off. He’s still not returning any of my calls.” 

“Serena?” 

“We talked a little when he first got back but I’ve texted him a few times since and no response.” That brief conversation between Serena and Dan is something she’s going to need more information about. Blair isn’t sure if she feels better or worse that it’s apparently not just her he wants to get away from. 

* * *

She’s late for a meeting with a group from her business merchandising class, dashing down the sidewalk trying to look poised as she dodges tourists when she sees him for the first time in months. He’s at a coffee cart with Rufus, the two of them bundled up and laughing. _Well, then._ That at least confirms he’s alive and not in the midst of some sort of heroin chic episode. She lets herself think about him, really think about him, for the first time in months. 

She finds out the following week that she gets the spring exhibition design internship at the Met. Her life is moving on. Maybe Chuck was right. Maybe they did both have parts of their lives to get in order. But she still believes that if they had wanted to, they could have done that together. 

Through it all — comforting Serena when she discovers her much older boyfriend apparently had an affair with her mother at one point, advising Nate against making another mistake in a long series of dumb mistakes when it comes to women, the rigor of school and her internship happening concurrently — Chuck is in the background. 

It’s a never ending loop of him trying to take down his father. Impress his father. Destroy his father. She feels the pull towards him every time a Gossip Girl post shows the darkness under his eyes, but she tries to remind herself what it felt like to wake up this summer and choose a different path. It’s easier on some days than others. 

* * *

It’s a normal day. A relatively normal Saturday. Blair has plans to meet up with her friend Persia (another intern at the Met) for brunch and then has a session scheduled with her personal trainer. But other than the never ending list of assignments and papers to write, that’s it. 

So it’s of course on that day that she comes downstairs in her La Costa robe to find Dan Humphrey waiting for her. He’s cut his hair and is wearing a nice pair of jeans, navy blazer, and a tie. It makes her want to bite his neck. And that thought is both startling and, frankly, a little mortifying. 

It takes her longer to notice than it should that Dan hasn’t said anything. He’s also holding a Bloomingdales bag. 

“Hello,” she says. She stays perched on the last step, needing the security of a few additional inches. 

“Hey.” 

“Have you been waiting long?” 

“Not. Not really, no. Dorota said it would be okay.” 

She gestures to his outfit. “Is this the new Brooklyn chic?” Because she can’t say what she wants to say, which is that he looks nice. 

“I actually had a meeting with my agent this morning.” 

“New book?” 

“Well, I thought so, but she just dropped me as her client, so apparently not.” 

She steps down his level and doesn’t think as she places a hand on his arm. “Oh, Dan. I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Yeah, well, what can you do?” He hands her the bag. “I should have brought this by a long time ago. I wanted to return some of your things.” 

She peeks into the bag. Spots a La Mer eye cream. One of her silk pillowcases. A discontinued bottle of Balenciaga perfume she’s desperately missed. She forgot how comfortable she allowed herself to be at Dan’s. How much of his space became her space. 

“Thank you.” 

“Also I wanted to apologize.”

She frowns. “For what?” Of all the people she’s wanted an apology from, Dan is low on the list. 

“I know you know this by now, but the night of the Shepherd’s divorce party I slept with Serena. And it doesn’t matter what happened or why I did it, but I betrayed your trust. You didn’t deserve that and I wanted to ask your forgiveness. Do you forgive me?” 

“Of course I do, Dan.” Blair could absolutely take this moment to list the things she’s sorry for but she doesn’t. This is Dan’s moment and it’s not hers to take from him. 

“Okay,” he says, a slight smile at the edge of his lips. “Good.” 

“Yeah.” Her returning smile is just as slight. “Good.” 

* * *

Blair’s moment arrives a few weeks later. And she mucks it up. 

She’s already started to slide the door back to Dan’s loft, not even knocking, when she realizes _abort, this is not something you should be doing!_ But then she’s met by a wall of packing boxes and all thought of propriety leaves her consciousness. 

Her heartbeat accelerates and she finds herself calling out a panicked “Dan!”

He comes out of his room as soon as she calls and doesn’t seem nearly as surprised to see her as she expected. 

“Blair? Are you okay?” 

“What is this?” she asks, gesturing to the boxes that are in various stages of packed. 

“Ah, well. Apparently my dad put some out feelers while I was away and decided to sell the loft. It might be Brooklyn but it sold for almost $2 mil.” 

“Why?”

“He wants to make his own record. I mean, it’s kind of cool, actually. We’ve both been writing and who knew my dad had writing chops. He’s splitting the money with me and —”

“Where will you go?” 

He frowns at the interruption, looking wary when he had been ebullient. “Not sure yet. We have the loft for another couple months. After graduation I guess I’ll join the unwashed NYU masses and go out into the great metropolis with many dreams but zero prospects.” He tilts his head, his forehead creased. “Is that a problem?”

Her petulance level is rising. She can feel it. “So, that’s it then?”

“What’s it?” 

“You’re going to leave New York and forget about all of us and we’ll never see you again?” 

“I didn’t say I was leaving New York.” 

“You’re thinking about it, though. Aren’t you?” His silence can mean she’s right. Or it could mean that her anger is a little surprising, seeing as they’ve barely talked in the past six months. “We’re not friends anymore, are we?” 

“Blair…” 

“No, it’s fine Humphrey. You owe me nothing. And I’m probably the one who’s responsible for how everything ended up anyway.” She hands him the bag of his belongings. “Good luck.” 

A part of her hopes he’ll stop her from leaving but that’s never really been his style. When she tells Dan she doesn’t want anything to do with him, he tends to believe her. 

She slides the door closed behind her. Now with Dan’s belongings out of her house, she can truly move on. Soon, she thinks, it’ll be like this whole chapter never happened. 

* * *

Blair graduates. Which presumably means Dan does too. Not that she would know for certain because they haven’t seen each other for weeks. 

And right around the same time, Chuck’s father dies. 

There’s an investigation, of course, because if something with the Bass family appears suspicious there’s usually a reason. Nate is hosting a dinner and she hears Chuck’s version of events. He claims it was suicide — he really shouldn’t be saying anything — but that doesn’t explain the endless parade of detectives asking to speak with all of them. 

One questions her for close to an hour about every facet of Chuck and Bart’s relationship. She has a future now, prospects and a path, so she has to be so very careful about making sure she doesn’t outright lie. 

If she’s worried she can’t imagine what Chuck must be feeling. And there’s the pull again. It’d be so easy to get sucked back in. To help Chuck make sense of all of this. Isn’t that she wanted back when he told her to wait? Maybe it’s time that’s made the prospect less appealing. Maybe it’s something else. 

She’s working on her final internship project, an exhibition for the gallery, when she gets a call from Dan. Her stomach does this little — well it doesn’t flutter exactly, but it also doesn’t _not_ flutter.

“Good evening, Humphrey.” 

“And the same to you, Miss Waldorf.” 

“How can I help you this fine evening?” 

“Well, I know this is last minute, and maybe not your thing, but we’re having a farewell to the loft party tomorrow night. Would you want to come?” 

She doesn’t know who ‘we’ is, but she says yes without question. 

If Dan is big enough to extend the olive branch, she’s willing to accept it. 

‘We,’ it turns out to her great surprise, is Nate, Serena, Eric and Blair. As far as Blair knew, Dan still wasn’t on regular speaking terms with Nate or Serena. Did he call them yesterday, too, or unbeknownst to Blair have they been spending time together? It’s not really a surprise that Jenny’s also there. More surprising is that she doesn’t send even the smallest of eye daggers Blair’s way. 

Glasses of wine and beer are raised in chorus as Blair enters. There’s a fleeting thought of “what the _hell_ am I doing here?” but then Dan comes to great her with a glass of wine in hand. He waits for her to remove her coat before offering her the glass, and smiles at her in this way she doesn’t exactly hate. 

She decides to stay.

Dan told the truth when he said it was a party. He’s stretched a large white sheet across one wall of the loft and setup a projector for some sort of movie night. He must have gotten one of everything from Zabar’s and based on the number of bottles of wine that are open, they’re all gearing up for a long, drunken, evening. All this for a loft? 

Turns out they’re also celebrating. Dan earned a place in a prestigious writer’s summer residency program in Ireland. He’ll be gone for a month but then, he tells them softly, he’s planning to come back. 

The movie screen setup is quickly forgotten in favor of everyone drinking, eating, and telling their favorite loft stories. Most of them start with “Remember the awful…”

“Remember the awful Thanksgiving? With the thing with your parents, and my mom?” 

“Remember the awful...”

“Remember the awful…” 

Blair doesn’t participate in the memory sharing. What would she even say? 

_Remember when I asked you to help me save Serena?_

_Remember when I lost my job at W and we fell asleep and the next morning you bought me coffee and pastries from the bakery next door?_

_Remember when I needed to hide from the world and you let me? No questions asked?_

_Remember when you told me you loved me and I couldn’t say it back?_

The loft has gone silent and Blair looks up from her musings to find almost everyone in the room looking at her. “Blair, are you okay?” Nate asks. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” Nate says, cautious, “you’re crying.”

“What? No,” she presses her fingers to her cheek even as she denies it. “All the dust in the loft is irritating my eyes that’s all.” 

No one challenges her, but they all look away. A new stilted silence in the air. Jenny is the first to stand up as a way to change the topic. 

“Well, as much fun as this is, I’m only in town for another few nights, so Eric and I are going bar hopping.” 

“You’re underage,” Dan says.

“Not according to my fake ID.” 

Blair helps herself to the spot on the couch Jenny left vacant and Nate promptly lies down on the couch, pooling his head in her lap. She frowns, and he just grabs her hand and places it on his head, all but demanding a head massage. If she wasn’t so comfortable she’d roll him right off the couch. 

As Jenny and Eric shuffle out, Serena asks where Rufus is. 

“I believe he is having a ‘see, we can definitely be just friends’ dinner with your mother.” 

“That is going to end well,” Serena replies, grabbing her purse to likely go home and wait for her mom to return. 

They do actually start a movie, _Double Indemnity_ , which Nate promptly falls asleep to. 

Blair brushes his hair back. “He’s always been like a toddler. Too much excitement and sugar and he falls right asleep.” She looks up to see Dan smiling at her softly and she has to fight the instinct to look away. 

“Would you be willing to leave Sleeping Beauty here alone and come help me do dishes?” 

It’s an invitation worthy of a dismissive scoff but she finds herself agreeing. 

At first the only word for it is awkward. But then Blair remembers something Nate told her months ago. 

“What were the articles you were going to write for Nate? Back in the fall?”

“Oh,” Dan says, taking the dish from her. “Those.” 

“Yes, those.” 

“Well, in my defense —”

“Not a great start to this explanation, Humphrey.” 

“I wasn’t in a _great_ place when I left for Italy, and I blamed pretty much everyone for that, which logically meant you all had to know how upset I was. Which I needed Georgina’s help for —” 

“Ew.” 

“It wasn’t like that.” He pauses. “This time. I spent those first weeks in Rome drinking too much, and writing absolute shit, and as Georgina does not trifle with fools —”

“She left you there.”

“Fairly certain there is still a Georgina sized hole in the door of my Italian apartment. She called me a pathetic asshole, stole cash from my wallet, and haven’t talked to her since.” She passes him a glass and he takes it, buffing away fingerprints as he continues to explain. “But I kept writing, and brooding, and dwelling, and then my program ended, having produced nothing brilliant, and I came back.” 

“Were they scathing?” she asks. “The articles?” 

Dan’s eyes are focused on the sink as he dries his hands. He nods.

“What stopped you from sending them to Nate?” 

“Um. A lot of things.”

“Spare me the vagueness and name one, please.” 

“Well, you for one.” At her silence, Dan looks up, a small smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. “Direct enough for you?” 

“Me?” 

“I was getting ready to email the first piece to Nate and then I thought of that Valentine’s Day party he threw. You remember that?” Blair nods. “I had this flash out of nowhere. I remembered you telling me to be my, and this is a direct quote so don’t even bother denying it, ‘wonderful self.’ Then I started to think about the type of person I’d be if I started down this path. There wouldn’t be a person alive who would see my actions as noble or even all that creative.” 

“Is that why you haven’t been around?” 

“Kind of.” He tosses the towel aside and angles his body towards her. Lowers his voice and there is so much signaling to Blair, _listen hard - this is important._ “I don’t know how to be your friend, Blair. We went from you barely tolerating me, to you being my best friend, to more, to nothing and I’m not really sure where we go next.” 

“I don’t know how to do this either. So why’d Alessandra drop you?”

“Ouch.” Blair ticks her tongue impatiently. “She wanted a second _Inside_ and that’s not what I gave her” 

“Was it any good?” 

“I thought so. But I haven’t looked at it in months. I don’t even know anymore.” 

“Could I read it?” 

Dan looks at her, unmoving. “Are you serious?” She nods. “Why?” 

“Because I want to.” 

She wonders if he remembers how she reacted the last time he wrote a book. Did she ever tell him she read it in its entirety? Dan stares down at her, his brow furrowed, and then walks away without a word. Blar busies herself with wiping down the counters of the loft, though she can’t remember that ever being a chore she’s willingly done before. 

Dan returns, as she hoped, with a copy of the book.

He hands it to her and she clutches it to her chest. “When do you leave for Ireland?” 

“Next week.” 

They leave Nate sleeping on the couch and Dan waits with her outside as she hails a cab. Her fingers itch to flip through Dan’s pages, but she waits until she gets home. She could easily read the whole thing in a single sitting, but she does have a gallery exhibit to finish. Plus after making it through the third chapter she is overwhelmed by the need to savor Dan’s words. So it takes her three. 

She knows it must be killing Dan, not knowing what she thought of the book, so she asks him to meet her at Saint Ambroeus for coffee. He beats her there and she’s not surprised to see her 2% mezzo waiting for her; the steam still wafting off the foam. 

“Hey, that was —”

“You need to get this published, Dan.”

“Alright, so we’re not even warming up to this?” She answers by staring, a hard glint in her eyes, and handing him the pages. “I don’t have an agent.”

“So?”

“I leave for Ireland in a week.” 

“What are you so scared of?”

“Nothing.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Nothing.” 

“Daniel Humphrey, tell me the truth.” 

“I’m afraid the only thing that makes me interesting is all of you. Let’s be honest, the only reason _Inside_ sold as well as it did is because of the celebrity angle. When it’s just me, just the words I have, they’re not going to be enough.” His honesty reverberates over their table. He looks away, taking another sip of his coffee. 

How many times has their little group said those precise things to Dan? Apparently, despite all his haughty eyerolls and an air of superiority, Dan was listening. Blair has never really had to take care of Dan before. Or encourage him. Sitting there across the table, him running a finger along the edge of his mug, he looks so vulnerable. Like she could crush him if she wanted to.

“This is a beautiful book, Dan. It’s nuanced and heartbreaking. There’s shades of Sebastien Japrisot in it, maybe a little Oates, but it’s also so much of you. I know I told you I don’t know how to be your friend, but this is me trying. I won’t force your hand or trick you, but your book should be read.” 

Silence stretches out, and Blair wraps her hands around her cooling coffee. “Okay,” he says. 

Dan leaves and while he’s gone Blair takes on the role of his informal agent. She sends the manuscript to every publishing house in New York. She sets up meetings with Kensington Publishing, W.W. Norton and Company, and Simon and Schuster. Then she leverages the meeting with Simon and Schuster to setup a fourth at St. Martin’s Press. The Waldorf stationery might get her the meetings, but she knows Dan’s book will speak for itself. 

She texts Dan intermittent updates, but mostly gives him space. It’s hard for her to do because now that he’s back in her life she’s fearful he’s going to drift out again. Instead, she focuses on the installation of her final exhibition project at the Met. This is something she has now — she’s curated an exhibit. In the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

Her friends come but for all their trying she can see they're bored after the first hour or two. 

Maybe it's not fair, but Dan wouldn’t be bored.

In fact, he’d likely tear her display about the image of the feminine in Tiffany’s work apart. Question her premises and conclusions. Maybe get into an argument with the museum curator. 

She wishes he was here. 

* * *

Dan texts her when he gets back. Asks if he can come over. Maybe he just wants to know if she got anyone to read his book. In any case, she doesn’t care what brings him over because she wants to see him. Oh god. She doesn’t know how or when, but he’s become one of the people she most wants to see.

By the time he arrives she’s a mess. Well, as much of a mess as she allows herself to be. Her lipstick is worried off entirely and she practically attacks him as he gets off the elevator.

Anything he intended to say dies on his lips when he sees her face. “What’s wrong, Blair?” he asks.

She stares at him, still not certain how she’s supposed to explain what she’s thinking. 

“Blair?”

“I didn’t love you before,” she says, and then internally cringes. 

“Okay. Strange ‘welcome back.’”

“Look,” she says, sharply. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, steeling herself. “Chuck took up every inch of space in my heart for so long. There wasn’t room for anyone else. Most of the time there wasn’t even room for me. Last year, I thought I gave you my heart. You need to know that. _I tried,_ Dan.” 

“I know,” he says softly.

“But I didn’t know. I didn’t realize I wasn’t free to give it yet. I wanted to. _God_ I wanted to be free.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” 

“Because I love you. I know that now. I see that now. It’s different than how I loved Chuck and you don’t have to —” 

“Blair —”

“You don’t have to say anything. And I don’t expect anything from you, but —”

“Blair, please. Just give me a second. Okay?”

She nods, her lips pressed tight together. He takes a step closer to her, considering, and she’s tempted to take everything back. But then he fingers a lock of her hair smiling softly to himself. Just as she’s about to yell at him that it’s been _significantly_ longer than a second, he kisses her. 

At first all she can think about is him not saying it back, but then she’s distracted by his lips, and his hands splayed across her back, and the way he brings her so close. 

She rests her forehead on his chest. 

“I have things to tell you about your book.” His thumb is doing this wonderful thing at the base of her neck — it’s comforting and she doesn’t even think it’s messing up her hair. She could fall asleep with him holding her in the foyer.

Dan doesn’t stay for long. He leaves without asking any questions about his book and Blair realizes he just wanted to see her. The thought makes her cheeks warm. 

She’s just fallen asleep when he calls her. Before she can lecture him about appropriate times to call, he bursts out with, “I should have said it back.” 

Her heart flutters, and she tilts her chin up in defiance. Dan’s not there. It’s for her own benefit. “Declarations of love over the phone are declasse, Humphrey.” 

Blair should have expected him showing up at her apartment in jeans and an old band t-shirt well past 1:00 AM. “I love you,” he says. Blair waits for the feeling of panic at someone who is not Chuck saying the words but it never comes. 

Over the following weeks he calls, texts, and shows up out of nowhere. Even when they agree to spend the night apart. It’s sweet in theory, but she has job applications to fill out and interviews to prepare for. She snaps when he shows up to her house with takeout. 

“What part of ‘not tonight’ was so unclear, Dan?” 

His wounded eyes make a quick appearance, but then he clears his throat. “I thought this was what you would want.” 

“What was? Mediocre Greek food?” 

“Us spending every moment together.” 

“Look, I love you. I do. But I need space for the rest of my life. Isn’t that what you want? Don’t you writer types need space and time to brood?” 

“It is. Of course it is. It’s just —” He sighs. “We had that last time, too.” 

Her whole body sags at the memory. _Last time._ When they lived independent lives and she concluded it was a sign their relationship was deeply flawed. That was almost two years ago, though. They’ve talked about this. 

She winds her hand through his hair, kisses him softly. “This isn’t last time, okay?” He nods. “Please believe me.” 

She knows it’s going to take time. For both of them. Time for her not to eye Serena suspiciously whenever she mentions she had lunch with Dan. Time for Dan to not immediately dart his eyes to Blair when there’s a Gossip Girl blast about Chuck.

“I believe you,” he says.

Blair promises to call before she goes to bed. She believes him, too. 

* * *

After much thought and consideration, Dan goes with W.W. Norton & Company as his new book publisher. He tells her all the reasons why over dinner. 

But that’s not all.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks.

“Will it upset me?” 

“It’s about you.” 

She takes a sip of her wine. “Go on, but tread carefully.” 

“The day I saw you at the Met museum? I was there because of you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I had just gotten back into town, and walked by the Met. I saw the Met Ball exhibit was closing that weekend and all I could think about was you telling me that fashion is what we use to tell the world who we are. And as I had no idea who I was, I decided to go.” He takes her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles. 

“You would barely look at me that day,” she says. 

“You made me realize something that day.” 

“Is it that I’m always right?.” 

“Well that. Also that I wanted to marry you.”

She laughs. He can’t be serious with this? “Please, Humphrey.” 

“What?”

“You said we couldn’t be friends.” 

“And I meant it. Because I still wanted more.”

“More as in you wanted to marry me?” she asks, not hiding her incredulity. 

“It’s what I wanted then. And still want now.” 

“Are you being serious right now?” He nods and tears spring to her eyes. Dan isn’t proposing. At least she doesn’t think he is. More like he’s gauging her reaction to being proposed to at some point. Frankly the thought is laughable. They’ve only been back together for about a month. Blair can’t laugh at the sentiment behind it, though. She feels it, too. The potential rightness.

Rather than say all that (she knows she’ll share it with him soon — likely as they lay in bed with the lights turned low, where her secret thoughts feel the safest) she shakes her head at him affectionately. He smiles at her, and she is going to marry this Brooklyn idiot one day. She knows it. 

“I refuse to be engaged again before I turn 25,” she says.

“I can wait.” 

“Well,” she says carefully, “that will be lovely.” 

* * *

When Dan’s book is released the following year it’s dedicated to Blair, though he doesn’t name her.

“To my dearest friend,” the dedication reads.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the theme for the 2012 Met Gala and subsequent exhibition.


End file.
